


“Sharp Message to the Brain”

by veredgf



Series: Plus One in betweens and more [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Bed Scene, Emotional, Episode: s11e03 Plus One, F/M, POV Dana Scully, Sad, tie in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veredgf/pseuds/veredgf
Summary: This is my take on the first bed scene from “Plus One”. Just a warning… I loved this scene very much, possibly my favourite from the whole current season so far, but probably not for the reasons most people like it, but more because I love Scully and I love that she’s very real and deals with everyday worries, just like all of us.So having said that, I took it upon myself to put Scully’s thoughts into words during that scene. I watched it over and over and paid attention to all the tiny details and gestures that both characters show in this scene and it’s just so good… kuddos to both D&G for working on a very difficult scene and making it so believable. If you don’t mind the sadness here, read on, and then go and watch that bit again…And now…. to the fic itself :-)





	“Sharp Message to the Brain”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the first bed scene from “Plus One”. Just a warning… I loved this scene very much, possibly my favourite from the whole current season so far, but probably not for the reasons most people like it, but more because I love Scully and I love that she’s very real and deals with everyday worries, just like all of us. 
> 
> So having said that, I took it upon myself to put Scully’s thoughts into words during that scene. I watched it over and over and paid attention to all the tiny details and gestures that both characters show in this scene and it’s just so good… kuddos to both D&G for working on a very difficult scene and making it so believable. If you don’t mind the sadness here, read on, and then go and watch that bit again…
> 
> And now…. to the fic itself :-)

'Nothing hurts like the truth.'

Scully could still hear Little Judy's vicious words in her mind as she drove back to the motel. She hated letting a total stranger's words get to her; especially the words of a complete lunatic. But just like a child who had no filter, Judy was very perceptive and couldn't care less about common courtesy or tact. And yes, her words stung as they hit a major insecurity she'd been working so hard to conceal.

She felt ashamed that this subject bothered her this much. Mulder couldn't care less about getting old. In fact, he seemed to relish in it; making sure everybody knew he had reached that age where you were excused for behaving in certain ways. He liked complaining about his age. It had become his favorite pastime. It was always about him being an old man and being entitled to do this and that. Whenever he'd go down that alley, she'd laugh it away, but she never joined him on his 'old-age-fest'.

She didn't even know if he'd noticed this about her. Some days she hoped he would notice, and other days she was grateful that he didn't. At least she hoped he didn't. Mulder wasn't the kind who didn't pay attention to such demeanors. More likely he chose not to address the subject because he felt she was having an issue with it. Maybe the fact that he _did_ talk about it so much was meant for her to finally find the courage to speak about it. The thought brought a wan smile to her lips.

'You're all dried up. Not even half a woman.' Judy's words came back to haunt her. She told her that she couldn't hurt her, but just like Judy said, nothing hurts like the truth, and the truth was, she was a woman in her early fifties and even though she had had a child, she had no idea where he was or how he was, and he knew nothing about her. Basically she was a woman with no kids, and currently no official relationship, and there will be no more kids in her future. She was lucky to have been pregnant, but lightning doesn't strike twice, and she didn't have any hope for a miracle any time soon… so what exactly did she have to show for her being such a good sport all these years?

Of course she could sit down and convince herself that she had lived a very interesting life, and done unbelievable things, but the day that all this will end was nearing and then what?

She let out a deep sigh as she swerved into the motel's driveway. She felt as if she'd lost her mojo. She parked her car, not even bothering to check that she was neatly positioned between the marked lines, and then she dragged herself from it, walking slowly, as if something was holding her back. Her heart ached with sadness as she sunk deeper and deeper into gloomy thoughts of her as an elderly lady, living in a small apartment, on her own, with only a dog to keep her company. She'd sit by the window, staring out into the yard where young boys and girls ran frantically between swings and slides, amongst them she would see an elderly Mulder, sitting on a bench with an elderly woman leaning against him. A toddler boy would approach him every now and then asking 'Grandad' if he could help him up the ladder to the slide.

She agonized over the thought of Mulder moving on without her, finding a woman to live out his life with, a woman who would bear his children, something she would never be able to do.

She reached their suite and unlocked the door absent-mindedly. The living room section was empty. Mulder had yet to return from his meeting with Judy's brother. She was actually relieved that he wasn't waiting for her. He would have given her face one quick glance and he'd be hovering all over her with worry, trying to figure out what was wrong. She wasn't sure she was up for it.

She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She began the process of getting ready for bed but the dreary thoughts would not let go. She was pissed at herself for obsessing over Judy's words. She knew Judy was just trying to intimidate her, especially since she coveted Mulder for herself. She was a rational woman, bound to logic. Why couldn't she get over this?

She approached the tiny mirror in the bathroom as she prepared to remove her makeup. She'd done so on a daily basis without giving it much thought, but not today. It's as if she'd seen her face for the very first time. She stared deep into the mirror, looking at the woman peering back at her with a strikingly somber expression. Scully knew she was still pretty, but she couldn't ignore the wear and tear signs of aging. The tiny wrinkles by her upper lip, the well-defined smile lines, the slightly receding hairline, and of course, needing to dye her hair every number of weeks. She was no foal. Not anymore.  

She sighed as she began the process of unbuttoning her blouse. There was a knock on the door. She sighed again. She was in a foul mood and all she wanted was to be alone with her misery, but if she turned Mulder away, she would surely not have any peace and quiet until she explained things to him, so she gave in, heaved a deep breath and as she buttoned up the top part of her blouse she shot out a raspy “Just a minute.” Then she assumed her ‘I’m fine’ façade and opened the door.

There stood Mulder, his top shirt buttons partly undone, a beer bottle in his hand, completely oblivious to her mood and all business. “Hey, what did you find out, Scully?”

“That Dookie winging past your head sends a sharp message to your brain.” Despite trying to keep to a semi-cheerful disposition, his ‘all work’ attitude was grating on her nerves. Weariness caught up with her and she wasn’t able to shake the bitterness she was feeling.

“What… message… is that?" Mulder seems confused.

Scully knew it was really unfair to take her crappy mood out on him and so she tried to tone things down. “To gather the other apes and make war on your dread enemy.” She shoots a sideways glance. Did he notice she was miserable, or did her mellowed response take him off that scent?

“I believe I’m in touch with that feeling, Scully,” he retorts and Scully knows from his tone that he’d taken the bait.

And then they talk shop, and she tries to keep up with the façade. They are just two work-partners on a case, discussing work. They’d done it so many times, it’s almost like she flung a switch and she is working on auto-pilot. He’s talking ghosts while she’s throwing in the science behind it all. It’s like that’s all it is about between them. Nothing more, but fuck it all, she’s tired and this is not what she really wants to talk to him about. She hates this mock façade of hers. She’d managed to throw it away a while back. Why was she wearing it once again? She’s too old for this and time is running out.

She sighs and she feels the mask being removed from her face. “Mulder, do you think of me as old?” It is so hard for her to actually speak these words and she realizes she was staring at the bed, which was probably the most she was able to do when it came to being extremely direct about her deepest darkest feelings.

She was actually surprised when Mulder blurted “What?” It was obvious he had been totally unaware of her actual mood and her question seemed to him as if it just came out of nowhere. “Where did this come from?” he continues with obvious concern, and then he tries to recover but he is obviously very uncomfortable with her atypical and very direct personal question. “Maybe in Dog years,” he tries to lighten things up as he moves towards her and joins her on the bed, but his eyes betray his light tone. He is quite concerned now. “No. What are… what are you talking about?”

Scully feels discomfort all of a sudden and she stares into her lap, possibly beginning to regret she’d brought the subject up now that Mulder’s concern was boring holes into her body but the deed had been done and she couldn’t stop the snowball from rolling downhill. “Well, a woman thinks about these things,” she tells him, hoping he might pick up on the emphasis on the word ‘woman’.

But Mulder has gotten into his ‘Save Scully’ mode now and all he wants is to make her feel better. “No, Scully, your…” he pauses and now she can see he truly wants to say the right words but he is obviously in a very awkward place. He nods at her as he smiles, as if he is asking her to help him out of the entanglement she’d dragged him into. “You still got it… goin’ on…” he smiles at her, and she knows he hopes his words are helping but at the same time he is squirming, almost embarrassed about what he was saying to her, because he was trying to be just a good friend but it was coming out like he was coming on to her. He obviously didn’t know how to deal with this current relationship they were having; the whole once-lovers, now-partners thingamajig. He chuckles nervously as he speaks, “You’ve still got some scoot in your boot,” he tells her, but his eyes stray partially aside as he utters the words, almost as if he were embarrassed about having to admit that to her.

She feels sorry about forcing the conversation on him. There’s not much one could say to Mulder nowadays that would cause him to just about stutter. This situation was agonizing for him. It was time to let him off the hook. She shoves him off the bed with a friendly gesture as she pulls the cheerful mask over her face, “I’ll boot you outa here.”

Her light retort to his kind attempt to cheer her up actually makes _Mulder_ feel a lot better. He’s already at the connecting door when he turns around and sends her a gleeful smirk and Scully notes he’s checking her face to make sure his words convinced her she was still a worthy specimen of the female sex. “Knock three times,” he shouts out as she shuts the door behind him with an exaggerated smile affixed upon her face. But once the door is closed, her smile disappears.

Mulder’s fidgety attempt to fix her mood backfired. Instead of feeling better about her age, the fact that he was being so sweet and kind to her, actually made her feel like this dying patient to whom nobody wants to tell the truth of his demise. Instead his family and close friends are all wearing these unbelievable wide grins, working hard on concealing the truth that in fact the future is pretty shitty and there’s no real hope.

She leans against the door, feeling despair taking over. She shakes her head, as if she were attempting to shake off the grim feelings. But they won’t budge. She sighs and heads for the bed. This case was getting to her and she wished it would be over, the sooner, the better.

**[NOT THE END]**


End file.
